A Common Calamity
by tigerkity
Summary: Murdock finds help in a most unexpected place at the VA. Stargate SG1 crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Common Calamity

By: Tigerkity

Summary: Murdock finds help in a most unexpected place at the VA. Crossover with Stargate SG-1

Spoilers: Waiting for Insane Wayne

Warnings: some language, and violence, and (blink and you'll miss it) some reference to adult matters.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from the A-team or from Stargate, wouldn't it be fun if I did? I'm not making any money from this either.

Author's notes: This is my first A-Team fic, so feedback is much appreciated and welcome!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"It is a common calamity; at some one time we have all been mad." – Baptista Mantuanus

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Another job successfully completed. They had helped a kid defend both his father's honor and memory as well as his land against a greedy no good, two bit, mudsucker named Kincaid and his truly insane mercenary: Wayne. Normally, Murdock would be satisfied that he had been able to help his buddies and then come back home and kick his feet up waiting for the next trip, but amid the flowing adrenaline he had forgotten about his test. He had been on his way to take a "mental agility" test, as Face called it, to try to be transferred out of the Veteran's Affairs Hospital. There was a new patient, Milligan, who really scared the dickens out of him and he was afraid for his safety. The man, no giant, had even come up to him and threatened him. After years and years of being around B.A., there weren't many people who could intimidate the pilot by sheer size, but this man was almost as wide as he was tall, and worst of all he really was crazy.

It was a constant topic between him and Face; Murdock was a good kind of crazy. The crazy where you could be mistaken for eccentric but you could still function out on the streets; the kind of crazy that some people needed to be in order to remain sane. But this gorilla was a bad crazy. The kind of crazy that left you sitting straight up in the middle of the night with sweat dripping down your face and your heart pounding in your chest; the kind of crazy that had you wishing you had two heads, one to watch in front of you, and one to watch behind you as well.

Right before Murdock and the team had been caught up in the fiasco with Kincaid, Milligan had run screaming, down the halls, ripping out all the sinks from their wall mounts in the bathrooms. The tall pilot had been afraid enough to risk himself with another test, but it hadn't worked, the doctors refused to transfer him. So now Murdock found himself staring at the ceiling.

It was 0630.

Too early to be up, but too late to go back to bed, not that he could sleep anyway.

_One hundred invisible monkeys on the wall,_

_One hundred invisible monkeys._

_One climbs down, _

_Starts a' swinging around,_

_Ninety-nine invisible monkeys on the wall._

Nope, that wasn't working.

He stood up, stretched, and began to get dressed. Pulling on a shirt that said _If you can read this, then you're too close,_ he figured that if he was extra good, maybe Alec would let him go outside earlier than normal. He had watched the weather report earlier on his TV at 0200 when he couldn't sleep, and the weatherman had said that it would be a beautiful day. Face had left him a nice long book that he was actually interested in reading, and there was no better read than one under a shade tree.

He was just finishing up making his bed when he heard a commotion at his door. Panic spread through his gut like butter on bread when his immediate thought was: Milligan. But when he calmed down long enough to realize what was happening he knew that it couldn't be him. Curiosity got the better of him so he moved to the door and peaked out of a small rectangular window in his door. Apparently someone had moved into the room across from his while he had been away. He heard shouting coming from the room. A voice was screaming in a foreign language, and though he couldn't make out any words, Murdock could hear the terror and fear as plain as day.

He hadn't heard screams like that since-no…. happy thoughts.

But his attention kept wandering to his new neighbor.

His heart ached for him, and he wondered who he was. What was his name? What was his story? And why was he here?

Trapped in his own mind, Murdock failed to notice that the chaos across the hall had settled, just in time for the rest of the VA to wake up. The jingling of keys at his own door pulled him back. Eager to find answers, he sprung off the bed and covered the distance to the door in two long strides.

"Howdy doody muchacho!" he greeted excitedly as the door swung open. However, when it revealed the haggard face of the orderly, Murdock lost his exuberance. He had been in the VA for over ten years, the staff knew him well and he knew them all by name. He was the resident crazy and was privy to many benefits, especially because of his 'harmless' disposition, and considered many of the orderlies as friends. "Alec, what's wrong?"

Alec, the short orderly ran a hand through his stress-wrinkled face and sighed deeply.

"Nothing Murdock-"

"What's wrong?" he repeated, "Has something happened to Tracy? Little Jimmy?"

"No, no no, they're fine," he shook his head and waved his hand as if he could wipe away the pilot's concern.

"Then what?" Murdock was nothing if he wasn't persistent and stubborn.

"It's just, well, I guess that I've been getting as much sleep as our new patient."

"The guy across the hall? What's his name?" Finally, he'd be able to get some facts.

"Ah… 'J' something, Jonathan I think. O'Neill."

"Jonathan O'Neill? Army?"

"Nah, I think he's Air Force."

"A pilot?" An ally?

Just then Alec looked up, suddenly realizing that he probably shouldn't be disclosing this information to another patient…even if it was Murdock.

"Look, Murdock, I shouldn't have told you that."

The taller man smiled innocently, the lopsided grin seeming to take over his entire face.

"Our secret kemosabe!" he stated as he stuck out his pinky finger, urging the orderly to finalize the agreement. He wasn't disappointed.

"I just came in here to let ya out for the day. Remember your curfew and boundaries, and god help me if you disappear again and I'm the one who has to report it."

"I'm not going anywhere," Alec gave him a look and Murdock held up his hands in a universal gesture of surrender, "I promise," he reiterated.

"Okay…" Alex backed out of the room and began to walk down the hall to finish his duties, but before he was too far he called back, "Don't forget to eat today!"

Instead of answering, Murdock merely changed his direction towards the mess hall. He had been planning to go and find a quiet, nondescript place outside and enjoy the sunshine. Sometimes, Face would come and break him out and they'd spend the afternoon just sitting and talking in some unknown park. He always enjoyed that, no fighting, no shooting, no worrying. He longed for the next time Face would show up. Until Milligan, he had been completely comfortable in the VA, even considered it home, but now he was always looking over his shoulder for the giant. The wait between missions seemed even longer than normal.

Once he got to the Mess he relaxed. Alex had let him out first, the lovely chap, so the room was empty. Mechanically he retrieved his food, picked a table in the corner closest to the door and began eating. He took one bite, slowly chewed the tasteless eggs then put down his fork; his heart just wasn't in it. He didn't feel like eating. _Might as well get a head start on that book._ Cleaning up his mess, he headed back to his room, wary at each intersection in the hall

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The breeze was refreshing and the sunshine warm and calming. This was what he needed, not another dose of sedatives, anti-psychotics, or sleep aids. They just made the nightmares worse. It was embarrassing to wake up with three people holding you down and pushing their faces in yours. They were lucky he didn't deck or severely hurt one of them.

The outdoors.

That's what he needed.

Not another unproductive 'session' with the Doc. That had gone absolutely nowhere. He couldn't say anything even he had wanted to. The foundation for his nightmares, his "PTSD" as they had said, was classified.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the soothing air…and coughed. _Los Angeles_, he grumbled. It wasn't Colorado air, and is definitely wasn't Minnesota air. Oh, how he longed to go fishing, sitting on the dock, by his cabin and forgetting that the rest of the world existed. Now _that_ was therapy.

God! He couldn't believe that they had dumped his ass in a psych ward. He was fine for crying out loud! Why didn't anyone believe him?

The damn radicals! It was all their fault. Mike, they had killed Mike, nailed him right in the neck. What a horrible way to go. To feel every breath ripping through your insides, fire blossoming from every nerve ending. And he had been there to witness every agonizing moment. He remembered, he felt, every second again as he had the first time only a week ago.

Mike's sobs…the warm blood oozing out of his wound…over his hands…pooling below him…staining his clothes…staining his hands…red forever…his unsuccessful attempts at stating his last wishes…he already knew them…they all did, everyone knew each others…his unseeing gaze…the milky, confused look in his eye…the feel of his last breath…the exact moment Mike ceased to exist…his death…his best friend…

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Reaching the end of the chapter, Murdock decided that it was a good time to take a break. He carefully stretched, making sure not to drop the book. Glancing at his wristwatch, he realized just how long he had been on his little perch, luckily without any distractions. He looked out over the green lawn, considering whether or not to abandon his sanctuary to get some exercise. He enjoyed Hannibal's training because it was the only real physical activity he was able to do these days. People would think he was crazy if he began running, dodging, and zipping across the psychiatric hospital's grounds. Realizing that he had already made up his mind about gett up- er- down, he pushed himself off of the limb of the old oak tree and expertly landed on both feet.

He scanned the lawn once more before he walked out onto it, meanwhile readjusting his beloved leather jacket. So far so good, no Milligan, but wait…there was a face he didn't recognize, or in truth the side of a head.

The man had short honey brown hair and, only about an inch shorter than himself, was lean and currently engrossed with his hands. _This must be the pilot Alec was talking about._ Wanting to meet a fellow knight of the sky, Murdock began to close the distance between them,

"Hey yo Muchacho! What's happening?"

But the man didn't answer. He just stood there, staring at his hands. He wasn't moving, and Murdock picked up the pace when he remained so still, it looked like he wasn't even breathing.

"Hey man, man come on," but still he didn't look up. He didn't even seem to act as if he had even heard him. By this time, Murdock had finally come upon the stranger. He had enough experience with psychological disorders to know that he was in a tricky situation. How should he handle it? _What was his name again? Oh yeah,_

"Hey…John, man, come out of it," still no response, "Jonathan?" no luck there. Murdock moved around the man, to his front, keeping a little space as a buffer zone between them, and couldn't help but gasp at the sight of him. His eyes. The chopper pilot had seen a lot of side effects of war, but this man's eyes were haunting. They held a vacant look, but for a vacant look, it held so much pain. The man was trapped in a waking nightmare, a memory, and it was playing out like a movie in his eyes. A private screening upon his hands.

He had to do something to help; he had to bring this man out of it. Murdock couldn't leave something in pain, in need.

He desperately snapped his fingers, imitated a hypnotist, and clapped his hands, but to no avail. There was only one thing left he could do.

"Man, I'm trying to help ya here, come on. It's not real," Murdock urged gently as he laid a hand on the man's arm.

But before he could finish blinking his eyes, the man dropped to the ground and swept his feet out from under him. Murdock went down as gracefully as a sack of potatoes. He hit the ground hard and let out a loud 'oof'.

The movement and sound must have been enough, for the man blinked once, twice, before realizing where he was and what he had just done. Already on the ground, he scrambled over to where Murdock lay, retrieving the discarded hat on the way.

"Oh my god! I'm…I'm…" _embarrassed _" so sorry. I didn't mean to. God, why'd you do that? I could have hurt you! Are you all right? Geeze, I'm sorry!" The man rambled as he returned the blue cap to its owner while helping the stranger sit up. Why the hell did he do that? Didn't he know who -what- he was?

He was really out of it…maybe the Doc _was_ right, he needed to be locked up, with the key thrown away. Before he did something really bad that he couldn't control.

"I'm fine. No harm done. Are _you _okay?" Murdock asked as he jammed the cap back on his head.

_What?!_ He just dropkicked the man, hard, and he was asking if _he _was all right?

"I'm fine are you _sure_ that _you're_ okay?"

"Yup," he grinned he'd had a lot worse done to him, he'd survived… well, he'd survived. A little knock down wasn't going to hurt him, "Yup, fine as swine! Name's H.M. Murdock," he greeted, holding his hand out officially.

"Jack…O'Neill," the man stated as he shook Murdock's outstretched hand.

"Oh, Jack, pleased to make your acquaintance. I would perform a sweeping bow, but seeing as I can't quite go any lower…" he teased in a quasi British accent.

Jack blinked at the sudden character switch, amazed, then,

"Oh!" he quickly got up and offered his hand to help his new 'acquaintance' to stand as well, "Sorry," he murmured once again, suddenly finding his feet very interesting.

_What is it with this guy and his appendages?_

"It's no problem, for a fellow sky knight all is forgiven."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"No, what'd you say?"

"Uh…apology accepted?"

"No, no, the sky thing,"

"Oh, the sky thing. Well, it's big…and blue… and up there," he said, looking and pointing up at the sky.

Despite being annoyed at the other guy's antics, Jack couldn't help but grin. There was just something about him that he liked. Shaking his head, he acquiesced,

"Never mind."

A comfortable silence fell over the two, as they stood there each not knowing quite what to say. Well, it was silent until a loud rumble made them both look down.

"I guess I should go make a pass at the mess," Jack stated sheepishly.

"I'll go with you," Murdock stated brightly, "I kinda missed breakfast anyway," he wasn't ready to leave the man alone. He had taken to him and was determined to bring the younger man under his wing and look out for him.

"Sure, I could use the company," and oddly enough he did. He was glad that Murdock was willing to put up with him for a little while longer.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The only time Murdock wasn't looking out for it was the time that it happened. He had had fun at lunch with Jack, especially after the younger man figured out that he was a pilot as well. They had spent the entire meal discussing everything about flying, had debated which was better: a chopper or a plane, different techniques, and they had even shared pilot jokes. It was refreshing because he couldn't talk to the guys like that, they didn't understand, especially BA.

They were on their way back outside, Jack had challenged him to a game of chess, and Murdock had conned a board from the games clerk, much to Jack's amusement, and his own. Face would have been proud. The Air Force captain was just regaling him, with precise description, how he was going to "whoop his butt". Jack had taken a side trip to the restroom, leaving Murdock to wait on his own outside.

But he was distracted. He had forgotten the evil monster that lurked these halls and he was about to pay the price.

"Well, hey there sweet cheeks," the deep voice sneered. Murdock jerked his head up and paled in the shadow of gorilla Milligan. The chess board and pieces cluttered to the floor and scattered, but Murdock wasn't aware of it.

_This is it_.

Sure, he had been in hundreds, no thousands of fights before, but this was different. This guy was truly crazy. Anything could set him off, like a ticking bomb, and his team wasn't here to back him up. That's what was scary. Something could happen to him and the guys wouldn't know until…

"What're you doing here all alone?" The beast came closer and closer, menacingly.

_Goodbye Face. Goodbye BA. Goodbye Hannibal._ Murdock screwed his eyes shut, whatever this mad person was about to do to him he didn't want to watch. He stepped back until his back was against the wall and he tried to make himself as flat as possible.

"What's going on here?" The growl was welcome music to his ears.

Jack had chosen that particular moment to come out of the bathroom. He opened his eyes to see his new friend sidle up alongside him, his fists clenched, his stance dangerous. It was a startling difference to the man he had been joking with earlier.

"Who's your boyfriend HM?" the beast of a man derided.

Ignoring him, Jack asked,

"You okay Murdock?"

"Yeah," he squeaked, then cleared his throat, "yeah," that sounded more normal.

"I suggest you clear out and curl up under whatever rock you crawled out from under. You leave him alone or I won't be responsible for my actions," he promised.

Milligan hesitated, clearly furious, then with a growl of his own, he moved away, turning back down whatever hall he came from.

Jack relaxed and turned to Murdock, a completely different expression on his face. It was one of worry and concern.

"What was that all ab-"

"Nothing, just forget it," he gulped as he readjusted his blue cap and pushed away from the wall. He didn't want to talk about it, he just wanted to get out of there. Darn test, if only they had transferred him, none of this would have happened. It was his own fault anyway, he should have been more careful.

"No," the younger pilot reached up and took hold of Murdock's shoulder, "I'm not gonna forget it! What's the matter with you? Why the hell was that guy threatening you? You didn't do anything…why you?"

"Why me? Why me?" He repeated, frustrated and upset, his voice unintentionally rising, "Because he's crazy! And I mean loony as tunes! And he thinks that-" he broke off. He had almost told him. No, that was something he shouldn't tell anybody. It was humiliating, to think that he couldn't defend himself, that he had to rely on some…some…_stranger_.

"What? Murdock, tell me," Jack urged. He saw the fear in his friend and didn't like it. He liked the crazy man and was appalled that someone had wanted to hurt him. He didn't know why he had done it, but seeing the man in danger had awakened his protectiveness.

"No!"

"Murd-"

"Just leave me alone!" he shouted as he forcefully shrugged off Jack's hand.

He didn't turn to meet his face and he stormed off down an opposite corridor.

Confused by the sudden turn of events, Jack found himself alone, and stood still for several moments before he too headed off in a different direction from which the other two had taken. He was going outside for some sunshine. He needed to think.

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I probably shouldn't be starting a new story, but this one has been on my mind for a while now. This is my first A-Team story. Tell me what ya'll think.


	2. Chapter 2

Spoilers: A Nice Place to Visit

_Author's Note:_ This chapter is for Liz, you rock! She has helped me with such kind words, and has given me the swift kick in the pants I needed to post this chapter and pick up the pen. Thanks so much! You mean a lot to me! This one's for you!

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It was dark, the kind of darkness that reached out for you and wrapped its tentacles around your ankles to trap you and prevent you from leaving. He tried to fight his way out; he knew that the darkness didn't always stay black. It was like a movie theater right before the film started. He clawed and crawled, but it didn't release its grip. He tried to scream, to call out for help but his throat suddenly felt clogged; no sound would come out. His vocal cords had stopped working.

_No,_ he thought_, not again. No!_

But despite his protests, he found himself back in East Germany. He paused a moment and closed his eyes, maybe if he could try to will himself to wake up… but a gunshot made his eyes fly back open. More shots were heard and he felt himself running through the street, with his unit right beside him. He could see the river in front of them; they were going to make it, they were too close not to. Bits of concrete broke up and snapped at their heels as the bullets continued to follow them. He heard John yell that this was the most FUBAR'ed mission he had ever been on. Mike agreed silently, but yelled back encouragement for everyone to run faster.

"GO, JACK, COME ON WE'RE ALMOST TH-" His voice cut off in the moment that Jack dreaded the most. He knew what was going to happen, but was powerless to stop it. He wanted to wake up now. He stopped where Mike had fallen in the street, and dragged him to an alley. They had been so close, so close. He looked over his best friend and knew instantly that he wasn't going to make it. It was a miracle, no a curse, that he was still alive, albeit for a short time. The other men back in the boat were screaming at him to come on, they had seen Mike get hit and knew that there was nothing more they could do. Jack was just wasting time over the inevitable.

"Grab him and let's go!" John yelled, but his voice was oddly warped in his nightmare.

Jack tried desperately to stop the bleeding, to offer any comfort, though in vain, because Mike was still looking at him. He was glued to his eyes. They were begging, pleading, and made Jack remember a previous conversation…

"_Jack, you ever think about after?" Mike had asked him once._

_"After what?"_

_"You know… death,"_

_He had laughed at that, Mike was always thinking of things that the rest of them thought were beyond their control. What ever came afterwards came; there was nothing they could do to stop it. The only difference was that in their line of work they were more likely to find out sooner than most. _

_"You're getting a little too philosophic for my blood, Mikey me boy,"_

_"I mean it Jack. I joined up to do some good, and it's okay to die if I know that there's something… else, something more. But, I don't want to waste my life."_

_"Now, you-"_

_"Hear me out Jack! If there's just death and that's it, then I don't want to die. I have my whole life ahead of me. I want a family. I…I don't want to die. I'm…I'm scared."_

_Jack had been rudely awakened at that comment. Mike, his best friend, was afraid to die. Hell, deep down they all were. But it wasn't something he wanted to think about, so he had ordered two more beers._

They had gotten smashed that night, and were so bad the next morning that the rest of the unit had had a great time making their lives hell.

Jack just stared at Mike. His eyes were cruelly drawn to the gory mess that was his friend's neck. The blood was everywhere; it was all over his hands, his shirt, his pants, the sidewalk…

Then things changed as only they can do in the dream world. Mike sat up and raised his finger, stabbing Jack in the chest. He threw his head back, revealing the damage done by one lucky bullet, and let out a maniacal laugh.

The sound rippled through Jack's chest and head. He shook himself in a desperate attempt to rid himself of the damning sound, but it only intensified. He covered his ears with his red hands, transferring the blood to his head. He tried to beg Mike to stop but his throat still continued to emit no sound.

Then the blood on his hands started to warm. It got hotter and hotter until it began to boil, burning his hands underneath and his ears and his chest. Anywhere the blood had touched him was now on fire. The pain was excruciating breaking through whatever wall had blocked his voice and finally, he let out a scream of his own.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Murdock had been unable to fall asleep. He had been shaken by his earlier encounter with Milligan, and was afraid that if he let his guard down the monster would knock down his door and get him. So he had fallen to pacing. He was currently debating whether or not to call Face; maybe he could get him out of there, even if it would just be for a little bit. He had an appointment with Doctor Richter the day after tomorrow.

Giving in, he went over to his bed, picked up the phone and began dialing. After the first ring, a bloodcurdling scream reverberated from across the hall. The pilot blanched when he recognized the voice and hung up the phone. He ran to the door and realized that the orderlies hadn't yet gotten there. He wanted to run across the hall and bring his new friend out of it, but he couldn't: his door was locked.

"Jack! Hey muchacho, it's just a dream!" he wondered if he could even hear him, but he continued nonetheless, "Hey flyboy, come out of it!" Slowly, the screaming lessened in intensity, but before he could say anything more, three men in white came running around the corner. They made their way into the room and in a matter of seconds the screaming stopped entirely.

Normally Murdock didn't protest with the way things were run at the VA, it was a good hospital after all, but he couldn't help but feel angry at their intrusion. He was getting through to the man; they didn't have to drug him. People at the hospital were too eager to rely on drugs to get things done.

_Gosh darn it!_

Murdock kept looking through the little grate on the door until he saw all the orderlies leave the room and return to wherever the orderlies went. But he never returned to his bed, instead he sat down with his back against the wall right next to the door, holding vigil in case the nightmares revisited his friend. He'd be there to bring him back, even though he knew that the drugs would do the job for him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He didn't know when he had fallen asleep, but the next morning when Alec came to let him out, he found Murdock huddled by the door.

"Hey, HM, come on and wake up big guy," Alec prodded the still sleeping man.

"Five more minutes puweese…" he mumbled before he succumbed to sleep once more.

"Come on Murdock, wake up now," but the night had caught up with him and the captain was too tired to stir.

Jack, now free of the sleeping medications' influence wandered out of his room as Alec was trying to wake his friend. He caught a glimpse of the man's telltale bomber jacket from behind the door where the orderly was crouched. Shrugging his shoulders, he figured he might at least try to help. He didn't know why, but he felt like he owed the man.

"Murdock, I think the nice man here wants you to wake up," Alec looked up to see the new Air Force patient standing behind him. His surprise must have shown on his face because Jack just shrugged and gave him a flashy grin that didn't reach his eyes. He crouched down next to Alec and at his inquiry, the orderly back off letting the man try to rouse the fellow pilot.

"Hey Murdock, don't ya wanna wake up? I'm gonna go get some breakfast, you wanna join me?" His voice made its way into the foggy slumber that Murdock was floating in.

_What? Jack? What's he doing here?_ He had a curiosity that was worse than a cat's, and it was too tempting to try and figure out why the hand-man was in his room.

"You can't come with me when you're asleep,"

"Whaa-?" Murdock mumbled.

"Welcome back to the land of the conscious, boyo." Jack answered in his own exaggerated Irish brogue.

Unable to resist the lure, and now completely awake, Murdock surprised both men with his own Irish accent.

"What's being served? 'R we havin' hash and haggis?"

"Nope," this time, Jack's grin was real, "Scrambled eggs and stale French toast."

"Me fav'rite!" Murdock jumped up, taking Jack with him as he bounced down the hall, leaving Alec in wonderment.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The happy-go-lucky attitude that Murdock perpetually inhabited slipped slightly when they reached the door to the mess. Jack watched as he scanned the room quickly and quietly before he resumed his diatribe about Billy and how he was teaching him how to open doors. Jack didn't say anything; he just let Murdock think that he was oblivious, but he carefully tucked the detail away in his mind as he had done with the confrontation yesterday.

"But I think that he's just been having a bad couple of days. I mean, he's really smart. Billy's a genius!" then he added in a conspiratorial whisper, "smarter than some people I know."

"Me too," Jack chuckled. Murdock was one helluva guy. "Hey, we never did get to finish our chess game. Actually, we never got to start it. What do ya say that we go outside later and I'll make good on my promise."

Murdock's fork stopped halfway between his mouth and his plate as he remembered why they didn't get to play their chess game. But he shook his head trying to clear away the thought, Hannibal had told him once to never let the enemy alter your life, if it did, then it had won.

"Sure thing Handman, I know just the place!"

"Handman?" Jack asked at the moniker.

"Yup" Murdock nodded. "When I first saw ya, you were looking at your hands. I know a Face, and now I know a Hand" he giggled at the thought.

_Handman, I've had worse nicknames. _

"Who's Face?"

"A good good friend, maybe you can meet him one day. I think you'd like him. We go all the way back to 'Nam. Face, BA and Hannibal, I was their pilot. The famous A-Team!"

"A-team?"

"Yeah, what are they teaching the kids today?! We were famous!"

Jack just nodded compliantly as Murdock launched into old tales of the A-team and some pretty outlandish mission they had pulled off in the jungles. He even bragged about Face's Cadillac and racquetball club.

"I heard about that!" Jack finally interrupted, "I was shipped into Cambodia for 6 months, right before the end of the war, and some jarheads were saying how they missed that club. I thought they were pulling my chain! You mean to tell me that really happened!?"

Murdock nodded, surprised that Hands had been to Nam, he looked too young.

"Man," Jack snapped his fingers, "And you know the guy who started it…"

"Yup! That's Facey! Hey, would you give me a sec, I'll meet you outside 'kay? By the large oak tree there's a couple of benches. I'll be there in a minute. You get the game though!" And without further a do, the captain zipped out of the room. If you had blinked you would have missed him.

Once more, Jack, now known as Handman, shook his head and cleaned up the mess that they had made.

Eventually, with chessboard in hand, Jack made it outside. He paused in the sunshine, allowing its warmth to fill the cold darkness of his soul that had been torn open by Mike's death. For the first time in a long couple of weeks, he was starting to feel better. He no longer saw faces of the dead in the shadows. He didn't hear their whispers on the wind. He was beginning to feel human again. If only the nightmares would leave him alone. He had done all he could to save Mike; there was just nothing anyone could do to prevent the outcome.

He headed over to the benches, he knew the exact spot Murdock was talking about, and began to set up the board. He had just placed the last pawn in its spot before a bundle of energy sank down across from him.

"Welcome back,"

"Did ya miss me?"

"Absolutely!"

They both grinned before Murdock remembered what he had brought to share. He reverently placed an old picture frame on the table so that Jack could see it.

"Proof, this is me and the guys," he never showed this photo to anyone, and he found himself wondering why he had decided to show it to Hands, " This is BA, the big ole mudsucker, that's me, that's Hannibal, and see there, that's Face!" It was an old photo of the team back in 'Nam. They had all just come of a weekend of downtime in Hawaii so they were all in their Class A uniforms complete with the spiffy hats.

"Who's this?" Jack asked pointing to a man in the middle.

"That's Ray…"

"You never told me about him."

"He's dead," Murdock said somberly.

"Ah," he knew how that felt, and didn't push the issue. But the mercurial man instead continued to tell more tales of the guys. Jack just listened in awe. He and his own unit weren't that close. Murdock and this A-Team sounded more like family as opposed to Jack and his guys, who were just colleagues. Truly only he and Mike had been close. He felt a pang of jealousy as Murdock talked about his team, no his family, with undisguised love. Jack wished that he would someday find himself a team where he could feel that way.

"So, how about that game?" Murdock asked in a lull between stories.

"Sounds good."

And Jack found that it wasn't as easy to "whoop his butt" as he had thought. To his surprise, Murdock was quite a tactician. He should have known though, that when it came to Murdock he was always going to be surprised. The man was entirely impossible to predict, and he found the quicksilver changes amusing.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

That afternoon, both pilots had to go to a group therapy session. Neither was looking forward to it, Jack dreaded it and felt it was a waste of time. He already knew that he wasn't going to be able to give any valuable input into any discussion, so he was already frustrated going into it. Murdock, though, had become silent, and of all of Murdock's quirks that Jack had seen, he could already tell that quiet wasn't a good thing.

Waves of fear rolled off of his friend that he couldn't comprehend, and the closer they got to the Doc's office where the group was waiting, the more tense and still he got until he seemed to almost draw completely into himself.

"Hey Murdock what's wrong?" Jack asked, halting their progress right outside the door, wanting to see if he was all right just before they leapt into the lion's den.

It took a while for the question to register until Murdock looked at Jack. That look stirred something in Jack that made him want to spirit the captain away and find the corner in the hospital that was farthest from the office before them.

"Nothing, muchacho," and he plastered a false grin that made him feel unclean, "I'm just fine. Let's not keep the good doc waiting. " Though, despite his words and his intention to open the door, he froze.

The doctor better watch what he said, Jack vowed. Whatever it was that had Murdock spooked was not going to stand a chance, not with the Handman there to protect him. Jack silently placed his hand on his shoulder in support and comfort and opened the door.

He walked into the room and almost ran over the older pilot when he stopped suddenly. Stepping out from behind him, he saw what had caused all of the odd behavior.

Sitting just across the room, with a chilling, toothy grin was Milligan.


	3. Chapter 3

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Realizing what was going on, Jack stepped in front of his friend, blocking the man's malevolent gaze. The way he looked at him reminded Jack of a butcher eyeing a piece of meat, and it made Jack feel sick. He had known that Milligan was bad news; it was pretty clear the other day when he had seen Murdock curl away from him that this was something that he had tumbled in the middle of.

Obviously this maniac was what Murdock was so afraid of…so why wouldn't he just come out and tell him? Why wouldn't he tell the doctor? Maybe they could transfer him.

"Well well well, boy, look who decided to show his scrawny little face."

Jack clenched his fists. His emotions were running high already these past weeks; he wouldn't be able to put up with anymore from this…thing. He refused to call him a man.

"Listen here-"

"Hands," This time it was Murdock who layed the comforting hand on his friend, "let it go." His eyes pleaded for Jack to heed his words. _He doesn't need this. He can't get involved._

Jack saw what Murdock wanted, but couldn't understand it. How could he just sit there and take it? _And where the hell is that Doctor? Shouldn't he be here by now? _

As if the doctor had read his thoughts, a special group therapy doctor stepped into the office, completely oblivious to the showdown.

"I'm glad to see that everyone is here," only then did the two newcomers realize that there was three other patients in the room with them. They too had been caught up in the confrontation, "Captain, Lieutenant, would you please take your seats?"

"Come on Handman," Murdock led them to the seats farthest away from Milligan as possible, and Jack wasn't protesting. But Jack's eyes never once left the threat; he would be willing to defend his friend no matter what. He'd defend him better than he had his last one.

"Okay, I'd like everyone here to welcome our newest addition, Lieutenant Jonathon O'Neill," the group as if one large zombie muttered the appropriate welcome and the doctor continued, "and welcome back Murdock. Nice to have you with us again," though the man's words were polite, his tone was annoyed.

_Welcome back? From where? These meeting were mandatory, how did he get out of them?_

"Now, let's begin. Sandra, I've heard that you have made some inspiring progress, you've been taking your medication haven't you?"

"Yes doctor, I have."

"Wonderful! You see everyone, how chipper she is? When you do what you're supposed to, then we can help you get better," the doctor continued on, but Jack had zoned out. This doctor bugged him, they all did. To amuse himself though, and to distract Murdock from the constant watchdog across the room, he covertly began to mouth odd words emitted by Doctor Freud starting with "chipper". Of course, he had to school his face with an innocent mask whenever the shrink glanced his way, but it was worth it the way Murdock responded. He lost a little of his edge, but was still wary, after all, the guy was still in the room.

"What about you lieutenant?" Jack almost missed it.

"Huh?"

"How are your nightmares?" His jaw dropped in a split second of shock before he shut it with an audible clack of teeth. He felt the warmth spread across his face in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. That was private! Why didn't he just take out a billboard? He was fine! Lots of people had nightmares and they weren't committed.

"I'm fine," he ground out; he had to work hard to keep his tone civil. He didn't want to dwell on himself. Sure, Nurse Sandra Dee over there was taking her meds and no longer heard voices, big whoop. And Thomas stopped seeing purple elephants running down the hall, good for him. But, this quack had barked up the wrong soldier. He was off limits, and the doctor refused to see the "No Admittance" sign.

"That's not what I hear. For the past week, every night you've caused quite a ruckus in the west wing," The doctor kept pushing, "If you talk about them and bring them out in the open, it will purge your mind. Why don't you tell us what it is that's haunting you?" Jack tried to ignore the morbid curiosity coming from the ogre across the room, and the fellow embarrassment from his friend at his side. He knew that Murdock knew about his nightmares, it was impossible for him not to. He was just across the hall, but he trusted Murdock, which was more than he could say for anybody else in the asylum.

"No. I don't want to talk about it," he whispered dangerously.

"That's fine. You will eventually though, what about any other symptoms. Any blackouts? Memory lapses? Have you been having any depressed feelings or dangerous thoughts?" _Yeah, I'm thinking 'em right now!_

"Ooh ooh Doc! Pick on me! Please!" Murdock jumped in, sitting on the edge of his seat, waving his arm in the air so high that his jacket was starting to ride up. Jack recognized the intervention for what it was, and felt eternally grateful. He owed him a big one. Maybe he would stop by the mess and pick him up a piece of cake before bed.

"Yes Murdock?" the doc had no choice but to acknowledge the pilot.

"You know me and my intermittent memory loss, I have tons of gaps in my head. It's holier than the pope!"

"Yes we know all about that. Do you have anything to add? Anything new, like quite possibly where you were this past week?" Richter had known where he was, he had formed his own theory since the very beginning, but it had never been confirmed, and he had never told anyone else his hypothesis, especially not the other doctors much to their chagrin. This "Doctor Freud" had been dieing to find out, and caused a stir every time Murdock got out.

"You wanna know?" Murdock teased with a large, knowing grin. The doctor nodded slightly and waited patiently, "I was on the moon! Yup! Me and Buzz, we buzz buzz buzzed through the skies together!" Murdock jumped out of his chair and zoomed around his seat and behind Jack, carefully staying on his side of the room.

Of course, his antics riled up all the other patients in the room, and pretty soon the quack in charge of the gaggle of goons was forced to dismiss everyone back to their rooms.

Murdock and Hands were among the first to escape from the room, both undergoing a transformation as they made further distance from the chaos. Jack had calmed down, while Murdock had dropped the buzzing bee act with a loving tug of his jacket.

He looked over at his friend and they both exchanged matching grins. Yes, Murdock was quite the tactician.

Having had enough of chess to last them the rest of the week, Murdock decided to drag his friend to the Arts & Crafts room. Apparently he was a regular and the Nurse in charge of the activity welcomed him with a large hug.

"Hey there HM, who's yer friend?" she asked with a Texas twang, more pronounced than the pilot's.

"Well howdy there pretty lady!" he greeted back, "This here's ma friend the Handman. Hands, this is Miss Molly,"

"Good golly," he grinned as he shook her hand, then he added in a softer tone so that only the pretty brunette could here, "sorry, I just couldn't help myself. It was too tempting."

She just smiled knowingly and led them over to a table. Jack was never really into Arts & Crafts. Though he did like to work with his hands, he had taken up wood carving way back when in high school; he had never made anything out of Popsicle sticks or felt faces, not since kindergarten, and he felt largely out of place. While Murdock whole-heartedly began to build what he said was a plane, Jack was happy just sitting and watching his childlike enthusiasm. He even gave him a few guiding tips about the design. Taking a breather while picking the glue off his fingers, Murdock realized that Jack hadn't done anything for himself.

"What, have you just been sitting there all this time, or are you hiding a masterpiece behind your ears?"

Jack just shrugged sheepishly and tried to form a suitable reply when Murdock called out for Miss Molly to bring him something to do. The woman, god bless her soul, understood that some patients weren't into doing such trivial activities and humored him by bringing a packet of paper and some crayons.

"What do you want me to do with these?" he asked, the question directed at whomever was willing to answer.

"Draw a picture…Oh I know! Draw Billy!" Jack just chuckled and held up the top blank paper. Molly stifled a laugh and shuffled away while Murdock stuck out his tongue. Now that his friend had something to do, he once again focused on his plane.

Jack just stared at the paper as if the answer to his dilemma would just appear out of thin air. He sighed and looked back at the captain for help, but he was already engrossed wholly in his own undertaking.

Hands just looked back down at the paper he held in his hands, a nervous habit he had was that he had to keep his hands active, and he had unwittingly folded the corners of the paper. When he went to smooth them out, he got an idea, and he began to purposely fold the paper cross wise, lengthwise, horizontally, vertically: all as if he were following some invisible blueprints in his mind.

When he was finished, the unmistakable form of a Concord Jet, well, unmistakable to a pilot. Admiring his handiwork, he couldn't help but feel as if it needed something. He grabbed the crayon box that Molly had brought and pulled out a couple appropriate colors, and proceeded to add that 'something extra'. He was so involved in his project that he didn't even notice when Murdock had declared that he was finished with his own plane. Murdock had set it on a back shelf and asked Molly to watch it closely for him before he returned to the table. What he saw made him smile, Hands was bent over his own creation, attentively adding every little detail until it was perfect. He couldn't quite see what it was he had made, but he was determined to find out.

"Whatcha makin'?" he asked, pushing his face right up to Jack's. This apparently startled him so bad that he leapt up off of his bench, tripping over his own feet in the process. He let out a strangled cry as he went down, dropping his plane in the process.

"Handman, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle ya!" Now the guilt was setting in. Jack was strewn awkwardly across the bench with his feet in the air and his butt hanging between the ground and the seat. The commotion had drawn the attention of a few fellow artists, and when Molly saw that the situation was in hand, she ushered their stares away.

"It's okay Murdock, we're even now," he stated in good nature as his heart slowly began to return to its normal pace. _I'm a bit jumpy there_. "No harm no foul," and Murdock pulled his outstretched arm, returning him to his upright position.

"Speaking of foul, here ya go," he offered as he bent over to retrieve the dropped plane. However, when he picked it up, he gasped, "Wow! This is…this is beautiful… I never…"

"It's just a paper plane," Jack shrugged.

"Just a paper plane?! Just a paper plane! Is Mickey Mouse just a paper plane? No! This is amazing," he fingered the form delicately as he examined every little detail to commit it to memory.

"Ya know, if ya like it that much, you can have it," he offered. It was just a paper plane; he could always make another one of he wanted to. And he said as much. If the older pilot got more of a rush from looking at it than he did, then he was welcome to it.

"I can?" he asked timidly as if he expected Jack to laugh in his face and grab it back at any moment.

"Yeah, sure," he nodded, " Oh, but it's not finished yet!"

"It's not?" How could it get any more perfect than it already was?

"Just one more thing to do," he stated as he held out his hand is an unspoken request. Murdock handed the plane over, "What's your call sign?" Jack asked while he picked up a pen.

"My call sign?" What did that have to do with anything? Oh yeah!

"Howlin Mad!" he declared with obvious pride. Handman was right; no plane was complete without its pilot's sign. Quickly penning in the name, Jack then handed the now finished paper plane back to its rightful owner, name and all.

"There! Now it's complete!"

Murdock's beaming smile couldn't be any bigger. It took up his entire face, and it was contagious.

"Come on, let's go try this thing out! Then, I'll take you to dinner, my treat." Jack followed the bouncing man out the door and into the hallway. Without Murdock he would probably have been sulking in his room instead of finding a piece of sunshine that penetrated even one of the darkest places a man could be. He was especially grateful after that therapy session. He figured he owed Murdock more than a little paper plane he threw together could ever cover.

Molly also smiled as she watched the two men exit her little corner sanctuary.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Back in his room, Jack's mind began to go over the confrontation in the shrink's office. Murdock had successfully kept him distracted the entire rest of the day, but now his friend was tucked away in his own little room across the hall. He remembered the humiliation he felt as the doc described all of his psychological shortcomings to the entire group. Whoever first thought up _group_ sessions should be shot. How were they even supposed to help anyway?

So he had nightmares, he bet that if the good doctor had been what he'd been through, seen what he had seen, felt what he had felt, then they could compete over who had a better hold on sanity. But the doctor had never been to war, you could just tell; he probably had never even been outside the US. Jack was willing to put his entire year's salary on the assumption that daddy had paid for him to go to some Ivy League university, get a psych degree, and voila! An instant expert! How the hell was he supposed to open up to the guy? To talk? He had absolutely nothing in common with him.

And he had the nerve to look down on him because he had nightmares. So what, he was dealing with them. He'd show that damn doctor._ A nightmare every single night since he arrived, he said. Fine! Does he think that I enjoy reliving my best friend's death every night!? Well not tonight_, he vowed,_ not tonight!_

But the only way he could stop the nightmares would be to not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, every time he tried to rest or get some peace, there was Mike's face staring, glaring at him. Accusing him.

_"I…I'm afraid to die Jack"_

"Stop it!" He yelled, slamming his hands against his ears in a vain attempt to block out the twisted memory's voice,

"_Why'd you kill me Jack?"_

"He never said that!"

"_Don't let me die Jack!"_

"Leave me alone!"

Mercifully, the voice faded away. Jack just sat there, hyperventilating and shaking. During the day he thought he had been doing so well, he was practically normal. He hadn't had a flashback in a whole day! It was the nights, when the physical darkness came; the mental darkness was brought as well. The two went hand in hand, until he now dreaded the night. When the moon rose and the sun set all of his defenses disappeared. He was vulnerable to attack, and in his dreams he was unable to fight back. Weakened by the medication, his mind and memory ran rampant, destroying any good done during the day.

He couldn't continue on like this. Constantly rebuilding his walls everyday was taking its toll. He was quickly becoming exhausted and his work pace would eventually lag behind the rate of destruction. He was losing his tenuous hold on sanity and he knew it. Despite the daytime denial, he knew that he was slipping.

Maybe if he could be spared one night… one night only. No nightmares, no memories. But realistically to not enter the realm where the shadows lurked, he had to remain awake…as long as it took.

So Jack fought the medication's drowsy effects and sat on the floor beside his bed all night long. He recounted the entire Special Forces manual to keep his mind occupied, then after losing his place too many times, he gave up, and around four in the morning, he quietly sang the Air Force theme song instead, carefully, so as not to wake any one.

He'd show that doctor.

One night, no screaming.

He could do it.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Just a quick note to say: this is unbeta-ed and any and all mistakes are my own.

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When the orderly came to unlock his door, Jack was relieved. He was bored out of his skull, and the night without sleep had left him with a surge of adrenaline, the sleeping meds' drowsiness had long since worn off. He could tell that the orderly, Alec he thought was his name, was pleasantly surprised to find that Jack had not woken up screaming that night. Jack just preened and hopped to his feet, not willing to reveal his secret. The bundle of nervous energy crossed the hall and waited for Murdock.

It had somehow become his routine. Whoever woke up first would wait for the other one so they could go to breakfast. Standing in the hall, it struck him how fast he had clicked with the captain. It was as if they had been friends their whole life. Alec, he had decided that was his name, unlocked the door to his friend's room, and let him walk inside to wake him up.

It wasn't necessary, for the moment the door opened so did the pilot's eyes. Unlike the morning before, it didn't take even the slightest effort to rouse him. Seeing that he wasn't needed, Jack opted to stay out in the hall as Alec entered to hand over to Murdock his medication.

"Hey Handman, I know you're there, come on in. Welcome to my humble abode!"

For the first time, Jack took a look around Murdock's room. If he weren't seeing it for himself, he would have never though it was a room in a pysch ward. There were masks on the wall, a television, two video games, posters, a basketball hoop, a radio and a phone! It was totally different from his blank white walls, single bed, desk and lamp. Hell, he didn't even have a clock! But Murdock did. _How did he get this stuff? How did they let him?_ His jaw was hanging open in shock as he took in all the little knick-knacks strewn about the place.

"You're gonna catch flies," Murdock chuckled as he exited the bathroom, fully dressed in his leather jacket, blue cap, plaid shirt, and a T-shirt underneath that stated that Murdock stood "firmly behind this shirt".

"How long did you say you had been here again?"

"Oooh, roughly a little more than 12 years. Nice aint it?"

"Uuuuh, yeah!" Long-term residency must come with some nice perks.

"Come on, I'll play ya," he challenged as he headed over to the hockey arcade game.

"Hockey! Man, I love hockey, you kidding me, I used to play on the school team back in Minnesota. I'll whoop your butt!"

"You seem to be saying that a lot lately." He just grinned and sprinted over to the machine, trying to beat Murdock.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Many games, breakfast, and a competitive jog around the grounds later, the two tired men were taking a breather in the botanical gardens. Though containing a fancy name, in reality is was just a small area with a lot of shrubs and potted plants, nothing special.

"That wasn't fair! You tricked me!" Jack protested.

"Well, you're the one who looked,"

"But you said-"

"Ah ah ah, free will, I didn't make you do anything you didn't want to,"

"You're a rotten cheat you know that. I'll bet you tricked your own mother into popping out sooner."

"How'd you know about that?"

That was enough for Jack; he just about doubled over in laughter. The look on Murdock's face wasn't helping. They had raced each other twice around the building and just before he had crossed the 'finish line', Murdock had called out "WATCH OUT JACK! You're gonna win!" and of course, his brain, only hearing the "Watch out!" had immediately applied the brakes, allowing the captain to pass him. It was a sucker thing to do, but he _had _fallen for it. That didn't mean though that he was going to ease up on the teasing.

But, at the moment, he was trying to regain his breath. Passing out from lack of oxygen because he was laughing would be endless blackmail material. He put his hand down on one of the planters for support, but quickly drew it back when pain spread through his hand.

"Ouch!" he cried, his laughter dieing as he brought his hand up to examin what it was that had attacked him. There, in the middle of his palm, was a large green thorn; he had stuck his hand on the only rose bush in the garden. He plucked out the nuisance and opened his mouth to say something to his buddy when the blood blossoming on his hand caught his eye. Red blood…on his hands. His mind knew what was happening and screamed _Noooooo_, but it was inevitable.

The small trickle of blood slowly spreading across his palm acted as a trigger.

Jack found himself falling in a deep dark well of grief, he tried to grasp the walls to stop his descent, but the earth tore at his hands, making them raw and ripping his skin. But before he could yell out in pain, he found himself on that street in Germany, with blood on his hands. He heard Mike cry out as he was hit. He heard the body impact the ground in slow motion. He watched himself drag what used to be his best friend out of the path of any more bullets, not that it would help. He saw his hands as they covered Mike's neck, the blood pouring out around them despite his best efforts. He was lost in the blood. The red, damning liquid was all over him, and no matter how hard he scrubbed or wiped, it wouldn't come off. He was stained forever. He had Mike's blood on his hands, and he would never be clean again. But his heart cried out; it was supposed to be his blood. But it wasn't. Mike was dead, his life fluid leaking out of him, covering Jack instead.

His world tilted as if it was being rocked by a magnitude 10 earthquake. He closed his eyes; he was going to be sick.

"Jack, Jack, come on man, Hands! Enough, no more." _Murdock? Murdock wasn't there…? _"Open your eyes kid," _Kid?_ He was no kid. Jack opened his mouth and eyes to tell him off, but the sun blinded him and sent him to his knees. The sudden movement in addition to the gruesome scene he had re-witnessed was more than he could handle. Scrambling over to the nearest bushes, breakfast made a sudden and unwelcome reappearance.

Throughout the ordeal, Jack was meekly aware of Murdock's hand on his back, offering a silent comfort and grounding. Feeling dirty and ashamed when he was through Jack sat back weakly on his haunches and swiped an arm across his mouth. He closed his eyes, and focused on breathing to regain control of his faculties and piece back together his shattered mind. _Damn, that was a bad one._ His hopes that he was getting better were dashed with the latest sign of his mental breakdown. The hopelessness and grief threatened to overwhelm him, encase him in its sickly embrace, but the pilot by his side refused to surrender him.

"It's okay," then he turned away and spoke softly, "Face, help me get him back to his room." Two pairs of arms gently lifted Jack from the ground, and that was when Jack first distantly registered the presence of a second person: a man, probably a doctor, because of his long white coat. The two men supported Jack between them as they led him back to his room.

By the time they arrived at their destination, Jack had become more lucid and was almost completely walking under his own power. However, had he been 100 he would have noticed the surprised look the "doctor" had given Murdock when they had stopped in the hall right outside his room.

"Hands, why don't you go get yourself cleaned up?" he suggested, half pushing Jack into the room and steering him into the bathroom. Jack nodded mutely and closed the door. Following orders, after undressing he stepped into the shower and cleaned up.

On the other side of the door, the doctor was casually leaning against one of the walls, seemingly nonchalant. But only those who knew him well would have recognized the apprehension and worry hidden beneath his eternal mask that guarded his emotions and true nature. He watched, patiently, as Murdock took care of the other man then hurriedly ran back to the main door and shut it. Now that they were safe behind closed doors, he slowed down and sighed.

"I thought he was doing better. Face, he didn't dream last night-"

"Murdock-"

"It's not fair!" he cried, interrupting his friend, "He's a good guy,"

"Murdock, it's not your job. Let the doctors take care of it," though he said it, he knew that his good friend would never let that happen. He had adopted this man and there was nothing anybody could do to separate him from Murdock's mother-hening. Yet, that was he was here to do, well, at least for only a short while.

"Faceman, why are you here?" Murdock asked, changing the subject. Though he was happy to see his best friend again, he was cautious as to what was about to happen.

"Hannibal's got another job for us,"

"Me too?" Even though he was a part of the team, Murdock was technically not a member of 'the A-team', and he wasn't quite sure if the "us" included him this time.

"Yeah, we need you to fly the client back to the city after we get him back," it was supposed to be a simple strike: they go in through the front door, guns blazing, and Murdock goes around back, retrieves the client's brother from a small pen, then flies the both of them out of there while the rest of the team takes care of the rest of the yahoos. Murdock sent a pensive look over to the closed bathroom door where they could still hear the water running. "It shouldn't take too long," he added, "you should be back by late tomorrow."

"Sounds simple enough…"

"It is. If you want, I'll tell Hannibal not to get fancy with the plans. Tone down the Jazz,"

"Tone down the jazz?"

"Yup," he nodded.

"What's your plan this time?" Murdock asked after a slight pause.

Face smiled and proceeded to inform Murdock of the scam he would use later that evening to break him out of the VA. The captain smiled enthusiastically and added his own ideas to the cunning scheme until he thought it was perfect. Now that he had informed and synchronized with Murdock and had delivered his message, the conman decided that it was time he found out about the man who's room it was that they were hiding away in.

Tilting his head in the bathroom's direction, he asked, "Who is he?"

"He's a pilot-"

"Yeah?" _That explained it, _"Army? He seems too young to have been in Nam,"

"No, Air Force, and yeah I know. I'm not sure just what he's into, but he says he's been to Cambodia, I just dunno, he's an enigma."

"Is he Company?"

"Nu-uh," Murdock said, shaking his head, "not the type. But whatever it is, it's gotta be bad. You came in on the back end of one of his flashbacks."

"Yeah," Face shuddered. He remembered how right after their internment at one of the VC camps, he had suffered from the same thing.

"He's cool though," Murdock stated, changing the mood to a lighter one, "you should see the plane he made me!"

Face was about to reply when the bathroom door opened, emitting the topic of their conversation. He startled when he realized that he hadn't even heard the water turning off.

Jack had redressed in his pair of jeans but was shirtless because of the mess he had made of the other one. He was toweling off his hair, the shower had left him feeling more human. It had also given him time to recoup and pull himself back together, like Humpty Dumpty. But he hoped that he had done a better job than the king's men.

His actions had unwittingly allowed the two other men in the room an unobstructed view of his chest and his too-thin form. Face and Murdock gasped at the nasty scars that littered his skin. Murdock was slowly growing angry the more that he saw. Jack was younger than him, but already he could challenge him in the amount of visible scars. Meanwhile, Face was subconsciously counting the amount of wounds he could tell had come from bullets and which from knives.

When Jack realized what held their attention, he quickly lowered the towel to his chest and moved over to his drawer and pulled on a shirt. He turned back to his visitors but couldn't meet their gaze fully.

He tried to speak, but had to clear his throat before he could succeed.

"Sorry," he said timidly. After all, he had just puked his brains out in front of the both of them.

"You don't need to be sorry for anything, Hands," Murdock quickly admonished. He wanted to nip the guilt in the bud, "I want you to meet a friend of mine."

Jack looked up and studied the man that he had earlier confused for a doctor. The man seemed slightly familiar with sun dyed brown hair, almost blonde, stunning blue eyes, and a posture that seemed so out of place in a psychiatric hospital. But, if anyone was a friend of Murdock's, he was willing to give them a chance. He struck out across the room with his arms outstretched, as the captain made the introductions.

"Hands, this is the Faceman," Jack paused when Murdock said the man's own Murdockian nickname. _Surely it can't be…but it is. That's why I recognize him._ He renewed the handshake and noticed that the man's grasp belied whatever he might look like. It was strong and firm, the hand of a fellow soldier. Despite whatever pretty-boy show the man put on, Jack knew that it wasn't who he really was. He had been trained to judge people on the slightest nuances of their character, and the man before him was a textbook case. He figured that only a handful, if even that many, would be lucky enough to see the man behind the Face.

"Faceguy, this is the Handman," Face's eyebrows tweaked up when he heard Jack's own nickname. He looked over to his friend and asked a silent question. Murdock just put on an innocent expression and shrugged.

"Jack O'Neill," Jack said, in order to clarify his real name. Though, he was amused with what the crazy pilot called him, he didn't expect anyone to have to use it.

"Templeton Peck,"

"I already introduced you two, you didn't have to do it again," Murdock sputtered teasingly. Peck just smiled and leaned in to the Air Force captain,

"I think you should stick with Hands."

Jack rolled his eyes.

"Facey, Handman here has heard of you,"

"Yeah? What did you tell him Murdock?" Face asked playfully.

"Only good things, I promise! Scouts' honor!"

"Murdock, you weren't a boy scout,"

"I wasn't?"

"No,"

"Aw shucks," he exclaimed, snapping his fingers and swinging his arm.

Jack watched with a smile on his face, these two were obviously as good of friends as Murdock had previously bragged.

"Naw, I heard your name first from some jarheads back overseas. That and something about a club in Nam."

"Ah, so my reputation precedes me," Face was surprised, but only for a second, "Look, Murdock," he said turning to the other pilot, "I only have a little bit of time before I have to go," Murdock nodded understandingly, "but I can still hang around for a bit, it's best though that we stay in one of the rooms so I'm not spotted."

Murdock thought for a second before he brightened with an idea,

"I just got a new video, you wanna watch it with me? It's supposed to be very good!"

"Sure why not?" Face answered, and looked at Jack, asking silently if he wanted to come along as well.

Jack quickly agreed upon seeing the excitement on his friend's face, he didn't even have to look at the conman to have his mind made up. Murdock opened the door and within seconds, all three men were safely ensconced in the other room. Murdock and Jack opted to sit on the floor in front of the television with their backs leaning against the bed while Face sprawled out on the bed above them. Murdock popped it the tape and sat back.

"It came out a while back, but everyone told me it was really good!"

"What is it?" Jack asked, his curiosity peaked.

"Star Wars," Murdock answered, " There's supposed to be three of them, but this is the first one. I don't have the others yet."

"What's it about?" Face asked.

"Space! I dunno, I haven't seen it yet," he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. From the moment the opening credits stretched across the screen, the three men were hooked. The special effects were amazing, the plot was addictive, and the characters were funny and sad and scary all at the same time. Murdock was amazed with the fighter scenes, and Jack instantly pegged Han Solo as the coolest guy ever. Face, despite what he had said earlier, refused to leave until he saw the end, so when the movie credits scrolled across the screen, he had to rush. He said his goodbyes quickly, and shook hands with Hands before he made his departure, but not without a forced promise from Murdock to come and visit them again soon.

With the movie over and Face gone, it was just Jack and Murdock again.

Murdock turned towards his companion and decided that enough time had passed since the unfortunate episode in the garden. He knew that Jack would never talk about it to any of the doctors, especially after he had witnessed the showdown in the group therapy session. But, with as much time as he had spent in the VA, Murdock knew a lot about mental illnesses, and he knew that Jack had to talk to someone about what had happened to him that was causing his PTSD. There was no other way for him to get better, and Murdock was willing to do anything to help his buddy heal.

"Hands, Jack, you wanna tell me what happened?" Like he knew it would, the comfortable atmosphere chilled considerably and an iron curtain fell over his friend's face as Jack's defenses awakened full force, "Look, I know you don't want to, but you gotta. It's either me or-"

"Did the doctors put you up to this?" Murdock could see through the anger to the crudely concealed pain. He could see that Jack was hurt that he was trying to get him to open up and talk. He knew that Jack never expected him to "go shrink" on him, but Jack didn't know that he would only do so for those people whom he cared about.

"No, look, you gotta talk about it, it's the only way that you can get past this. Trust me, I know… I've been through the same thing, me and Face both, we-"

"NO! IT'S NOT THE SAME!" Jack shouted, getting up in a flurry of emotion. His fight or flight instincts were screaming at him so loud that he was torn between what to do, "He died and I promised him! I lied, and he's gone okay!? Mike's dead and it's my fault,"

"Jack, I know it couldn't possibly-"

"I DIDN'T STOP IT! DON'T YOU TELL ME IT'S THE SAME! DON'T YOU DARE!"

Though he knew it was irrational and unfair to yell at Murdock- the only one who had stayed by his side, if even for a few days- he couldn't help it. The tension that had been simmering beneath his surface had been provoked at what he felt was betrayal; he had exploded and probably pushed away the only person who in all probability truly cared about his well-being. With his emotions now uncontrollable, Jack realized the only course of action: he spun on his heels and stormed out the door, slamming it hard enough to force one of the posters to fall from the wall to the floor, and escaped to his own dull gray sanctuary.

Murdock had been stung by the harsh remarks, but he understood. Jack was delicate, and, judging by what he had divulged in his fit, prone to enormous guilt trips. He would feel guilty if the sun were to blow up, thinking that he could have stopped it when in truth there was nothing he could do.

His earlier happiness from the movie now dampened by the argument, Murdock drearily sat down on his bed. While he waited for Face to show up again in a few hours, he tried to think of what was the best way to proceed with Jack in order to save his sanity and their friendship.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Jack felt like his heart had been stabbed and some sadist was taking pleasure in twisting it so that it caused maximum damage. After his unit and superiors had abandoned him here to the psych ward, he had felt all alone, with his dreams and waking nightmares as his only companions. But when Murdock had woken him from a flashback a few days back, he had felt as if things were turning around. He had begun to laugh and smile again, he was even having fun at some points, but now it was all gone, thanks to his own stupidity.

How could the captain want to spend any more time with him after the harsh words he had thrown at him? Again, Jack felt a resurgent wave of anger and frustration rush through him. With one sweep of his arm he sent his lamp crashing into the far wall. The sound of shattering plaster wasn't as satisfying as he had thought it would be so he rushed the wall, slamming his fist against it again and again in a vain effort to overshadow the mental and emotional pain with the physical.

Energy spent, he turned and slid down the wall, cradling his bloody hands in his lap. He bent over himself and silently sobbed, but he refused his tears access to the open air. He wouldn't let himself cry. He fought them back until he could fight no more and fell into a shallow, exhausted sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The new orderly, already nervous beyond capacity because of the patient that she had let be whisked out from under her, opened the door to administer to her other patient his nightly medication. However, what she saw made her quickly shut the door and call for help at the desk. Two burly male nurses accompanied her back to the patient's room, one ready with a syringe if needed. The female orderly opened the door and showed them the patient huddled in the corner, blood smeared on the wall behind him with shattered debris beside him.

The three of them quietly approached the patient so as to not disturb him; and hoped that they would be able to successfully sedate him without having to cause a struggle. But the patient, even in sleep, had sensed their arrival and woke up suddenly. They sprang like lions on prey in an effort to catch him unbalanced and quickly get their job done. But their actions only helped to worsen the situation.

Startled by their sudden movement, Jack fought them valiantly, struggling left and right, but unable to fight off three prepared nurses in his current state.

"I need the dosage of Lorazepam now!" cried one of the nurses. He quickly injected the patient with the substance, but it still took a few moments for the drug to take effect. While waiting for it to kick in, they had to put up with dodging wild swings, flashing teeth, and flailing legs, and the female orderly cried out in pain as one of the limbs found its mark.

Jack could feel the drug slowly taking effect as it burned through his veins. His mind began to fog and his movements eventually became sluggish as if he were fighting against quicksand. He knew that his defeat was inevitable, but he'd be damned if he went without a fight. He let out a wild scream that quickly became a gurgle of sound, then nothing as his mind went dark as he slipped under the medicated blackness.

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Author's Note: I'm going to be going away for almost a month, and I won't have access to any computer; so, unfortunately it might be a little while before I can update again. I will still be writing while away, but I will have to transfer it to computer when I get back so ya'll can read it. Then I will be updating quite quickly, to make up for it ; )

But I want to thank all those who have been following this story and have been leaving me their feedback and reviews. It is much appreciated! And I hope this small lapse doesn't deter any of ya'll from continuing to enjoy my stories!

Thank you all kindly!


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: This chapter does get a little dark, and has violence and some language.

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"Come on Jack! MOVE YOUR ASS!" he heard John yell at him. The rest of the unit was already waiting in the inflatables that had been left at the riverbank. Only he and Mike weren't there. Instead, Jack sat bent over Mike's body at the entrance of an alleyway, nearly seventy yards away.

Mike was gone already, his last breath had long since left his lungs, his soul long gone to wherever it was that souls went, but Jack couldn't leave him. It was engrained in him since his first day in training: Never leave a man behind. So far he hadn't, and he wasn't going to start now. He owed it to Mike to at least get his body home.

"Let's go Lieutenant!" That was Randall.

A bullet that whizzed by his head spurred Jack into action. He removed his hands from Mike's neck to his back and proceeded to lift the body over his shoulder.

"Cover me!" He yelled, and as soon as he heard his units' guns on the offensive, he jumped up and ran as fast as his legs would go. He saw the enemy bullets hitting the street and ricocheting all around him, he was painfully aware of the still warm blood now soaking his neck, back, and shoulders, and he heard the screams and yells of his unit encouraging him. It seemed like forever until he reached the rafts. He tripped over his own feet as he hit the water and tumbled into one of the inflatables. Jack took a moment to gather his breath, and then opened his eyes. He had landed on his friend's body. He tried to scream, but his voice was too hoarse and wouldn't make a sound, instead he scrambled away.

John shoved an oar into his hands and told him to row or he'd pull over and kick him out. On automatic pilot, Jack did as he was told, until they reached the middle of the river. The enemy had chased them to the riverbank, and had not let up on their attempts to shoot them.

There was a loud hiss as the air from the inflatable rushed out from a hole caused by a lucky bullet. John cursed something fierce at the sound. Then there was another hiss; another hole, and John cursed some more. The raft was caving in on itself with them still in it, and it was going down fast. Jack sat there still in shock, staring at Mike's eyes which had still not closed. He was trapped in his cold gaze, unable to look away or comprehend anything around him.

Only the shock of the cold water brought him out of his trance. The raft had completely slipped beneath the water level, leaving Jack to tread water. Mike's body floated for a mere second before it followed the raft to the bottom. _Noooo! Never leave a man behind!_

Jack took a deep breath and plunged under to search for his friend. He wouldn't let the river take him. He was _his_ friend! It couldn't have him! All his breath was expelled from his lungs involuntarily as his face hit the cold. God, it was freezing! Stealing himself for another try, Jack took another deep breath. He swam down and searched blindly, for he couldn't open his eyes under this water, not that it would help. His fingers found purchase on the edge of Mike's jacket and Jack bunched the fabric in his hand and began to swim for the surface.

But before he could get more than a foot, something grabbed his wrist, hard. He turned his face back down and found that he could open his eyes without any difficulty. Seeing what it was that had grabbed hold of him made him instantly regret his newfound ability.

Mike's pale blue face peered at him through the icy water, menace and blame in his features.

Jack shook his head. _No, you're dead. _Mike's eyes narrowed in anger and hate and he tightened his grip on Jack's wrist. Jack cried out in pain; it felt as if his wrist were being crushed. He tried to pry the dead man's fingers off of him but the grip only tightened more. His lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen and he looked back at his former friend to try and plead with him to let go, but he met his gaze with a sickening realization.

"No," he pleaded.

"Yes!"

And Mike began to sink downwards, pulling Jack down with him.

Jack kicked and tried to swim back upwards with his free hand, but the dead man was too strong for him. He watched the sunlight fade as they went deeper and deeper, and his lungs screamed at him for air. He fought and fought and fought, but nothing he could do would bring him closer to the surface. The harder he tried, the farther he sank, and the quicker he did it.

His vision blackened as the lack of oxygen began to affect his brain, and the last thing he heard was Mike's metallic laughter, haunting him, determined to have Jack join him in his deep, dark, watery grave.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Just like the days previous, several orderlies rushed into the patient's room as they heard Jack's heart wrenching screams. Alec had truly thought that he had turned a corner, especially since he hadn't had a nightmare the night before, but apparently he was wrong. He had heard the report of his violence and necessary sedation the night before and was saddened. Because Nurse Barb had to report to the infirmary to have her nose examined for a fracture, they had to restrain O'Neill in a straight jacket, for both his protection and theirs.

He opened the door and approached the distressed man. Three other orderlies held him down as Alec prepared the injection site. The dosage wouldn't force him asleep; he would remain awake, merely calmer and more sedate.

As he forced the plunger down, Alec watched as O'Neill stopped struggling. He sighed and followed the others out of the room, sparing one last glance at the patient. He should be waking normally in about an hour. But he wouldn't be let out of his room today. He was considered dangerous, and therefore Alec had orders to lock the door from the outside.

He turned the key and walked away, wondering whether the young man would recover from his trauma, he had his rounds to make and he still needed to prepare his other patients' medications.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

News travels fast in small institutions where people are kept in close quarters with nothing better to do than talk. So it wasn't long until Milligan heard the news about what had transpired the day before: about Murdock's escape…again, and O'Neill's nightmares and restraint. If he played his cards right he would be able to make good on his promise.

He wanted revenge, and to teach those two wimps a lesson. But since his main target was gone, for now, he would settle on the idiot who interfered.

His door was unlocked and the routine began. He pretended to take his medication, he answered all the questions with the right answers, he nodded and made noises in deference at all the appropriate places, and in no time he was left to his own.

He knew the way to O'Neill's room, it was just across the hall from Murdock's. Could it get any easier?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He was trapped. Trapped in his own mind, in his own memories. Everything was blurred, including the line of distinction between reality and the dreams while the garish scenes played over and over in his head. He knew that he had to get away from the darkness but he didn't know how, Jack didn't even know if he could.

He tried to move, to sit up, but everything was sluggish, his body wasn't responding correctly. He lifted his arm to run across his face and to try to rub away the bleariness, but he missed his target and smacked his chin instead. He was weak and he knew it, both in mind and body and he despised himself for it. He hated losing control, and now he had no control over himself, especially when he had drugs flowing through his veins, and that scared him to no end.

He was still out of it and late to react when the door to his room flew open. It was too late by the time his hampered gaze shot over in its direction at the sound of the door slamming into the wall, for there stood a lone figure where usually a bunch of nurses and orderlies would have run in. The shape looming there was huge, lit by the bright light behind him in the hallway, and could only belong to one man.

Jack felt nothing. He knew he had to get away, but his body only reacted when Milligan stalked into the room, smiling evilly with a glint in his eyes. He tried to get his feet out from under him to get off the bed, but he only succeeded in tumbling off the cot and falling to the floor. The impact with the unforgiving cement left him winded and stunned. Unable to move, he was a sitting duck, a perfect target, and he knew that he should try to do something about it, but couldn't.

Milligan liked it when his prey was unable to fight back; it made things so much more enjoyable for him. The power he felt left him wanting more, and he grinned at the thought that he was at last going to be able to feel it again. He followed Jack around the bed and easily picked him up like a rag doll. As Milligan felt the power escalating within him, he lost control to his primal urges and slammed Jack up against the wall with one hand while he punched him in the gut with his other fist.

Jack let out an "oomph" at the initial blow, and under the onslaught he felt his emotions begin to return, starting from a dull anger then crescendoing to a blinding rage. No longer could he just sit there and take it, so he began to fight back with all he had. Of course, the effect was only equal to a wriggle, but he was determined.

Milligan continued to beat up on him, switching from attacking his stomach to taking shots at his ribs, working his way up to the flyboy's face. Jack let out a moan as red-hot fireballs of pain exploded from his rib cage, making it harder to breathe, and he began entertaining thoughts of defeat. Maybe he was going to die like this, helpless, defenseless, friendless, with no way out. _No! _Something inside him screamed, _Don't give up!_ Another wave of emotion rolled through him, and with it he looked up defiantly into the mad man's face and eyes and had to suppress a shudder. There was a crazed glint to him, like a wild animal, that made him even more resolute to not let himself become a victim.

Milligan continued his pounding, constantly taking Jack's breath away with every punch that landed. The pain was beginning to overwhelm him and threatened his constitution to fight back, but once again a spark inside him cried out.

_No!_

A blow to his left ribcage.

_No!_

Another to his right.

_No!_

A hit in his gut that would have made him double over had he not been held up.

_NO!!_

Jack took a deep breath and summoned up all the strength he had left in him to fight off the suppressive tendencies of the drug and screamed,

"NO!!!!!"

As he let out his war cry, he brought up his limp knee and slammed it into Milligan's groin. The pain that exploded through the larger man was so sudden and unexpected that he dropped him to clutch himself, letting Jack fall a full four feet back down to the floor.

His head struck the ground and he lay there for a moment, stunned. When he tried to move his vision swam, and the whole room tilted, causing Jack to lose his balance and whatever food he had in his stomach. Once somewhat recovered, he had used up so much of his reserves in that one glorious action, that all Jack could do was crawl away, slowly. Too slow to get far enough away.

"You filthy, puny little wretch," Milligan growled out through clenched teeth. A blow like that wouldn't have done much damage, just temporary pain, which he had already overcome. He caught up with Jack in only a few large bounds and unleashed his fury.

Jack had no chance; he had only succeeded in pissing him off while weakening himself. Even without the medication, there would be no more fighting back; it was all he could do to stay upright on his hands and knees, which didn't last long. Milligan viciously kicked him in the kidneys, the force of it sending him rolling over onto his back several feet away. But that didn't slow him down; it only fueled his unrestrained violence as he continued to slam his feet into Jack, wherever he could reach him. Jack's nerve ending were standing on end with the pain. He covered his ribs with his arms and curled into the fetal position in an effort to protect himself; and with each blow, every time Milligan's foot connected with him, he drew within himself even further. His back was constantly throbbing and he could feel the bruises already forming. He let out a cry at one particularly hard kick at the base of his spine in the small of his back.

All of a sudden, Milligan stopped. He stiffened then let loose one last vicious kick before he bolted from the room.

Jack's head was reeling and he felt like he was going to vomit again, and he missed the sound that saved him as he lay crumpled on the floor.

Down the hall an alarm was ringing.

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Author's Note: Hey I'm back!! My trip to BC, Canada was amazing, but when I got home I only had a day or so to do laundry before I was whisked away on a family road trip to the other side of the Great White North: Montreal, for a family reunion.

Thanks to all of ya'll who wished me a nice trip, I had the time of my life, and as promised, here is the next chapter of CC. Tell me what you think.

Oh, and it was my birthday on the 22nd! So yehoo!


	6. Chapter 6

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Murdock strolled through the hall, both happy and sad to be back home. It was always great to go out with the guys, he had so much fun sometimes, especially when he got to fly, but it was stressful. There's only so much a man can take of people constantly shooting at him. He could relax while he was here at the VA, well, that wasn't entirely true lately. Ever since… Murdock shuddered and banished the thought.

He had a new friend here, one that he really liked, and that made it enjoyable again. Thinking of Hands, Murdock frowned in remembrance of their fight. There had to be a way to fix it and help Hands at the same time. He hadn't meant to upset him; he was only trying to help. Now he wasn't even sure if he would talk to him or not.

Murdock walked with his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, staring at his feet while thinking. He kept walking as the first nurse to spot him sounded the alarm. It happened every time. He would leave with an alarm, come back to one, and then he would have to talk to Richter. It was standard procedure, so he didn't really pay much attention to it. Not even when a second alarm went off.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Alec looked up from his book at the sound. _Ah….must be Murdock's back again. _He had been working at the hospital long enough to know the drill. He looked at his watch to check the time and wrote it down in one of Dr. Richter's private files. He secretly kept track of every single one of Murdock's outings, for what reason Alec never knew, but Richter sure wanted to. Murdock was just an enigma. He would leave, but he would always come back, and as long as he did so in one piece, Alec never batted an eyelash. Sure, on some level it did bother him, but Murdock was harmless if not quick. He highly doubted that most of the other patients would be able to pull off the same stunts that he did.

He put down the pen, stepped out from behind the desk, grabbed his keys, and headed down to Murdock's wing to welcome him back, and to secretly make sure that none of the rookie nurses did anything stupid. Just when he turned the corner in front of Murdock's room, he noticed that the door across from it, O'Neill's room, was open. _That can't be. I locked it myself._ Curious, he decided to investigate. As he got closer, a smell made him wrinkle his nose and rush into the room. All he had was a quick glance, but it was enough. The room was in shambles with blood and vomit on the floor, and in the middle of it all O'Neill was shaking violently while curled up in a tight ball. He ran from the room at top speed and hit the closest emergency button before returning to the scene and stabilizing his patient. He quickly recognized the signs of a fight, which narrowed down his medical checklist. Help arrived as he began to unfold the man before him, and it took a few of them to do it, while he sent one female nurse back to get a stretcher and to prepare the infirmary.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He was still wrapped in his own thoughts when he turned down his corridor and only noticed the activity by his door when he was practically on top of it. Nurses were running in and out of the room across from his…

"Hands!"

Panic washed through him. What was going on? What happened to Hands? He tried to get closer to see through all the nurses and orderlies, but he couldn't. Suddenly, a familiar face appeared right in front of him and rushed him out of the room and into his own.

"Alec, what's going on?" His voice echoed his fear and confusion.  
"I'm sorry Murdock. Not right now," and he was gone, back into the melee.

Murdock grabbed the edge of the little box window in his door and looked on, desperately trying to find out something about his friend. He only had to wait a few more seconds before all the white figures stood up and moved out of the room, rolling a stretcher between them.

"Jack," he said quietly. He knew even before he saw him that he was right, though he hoped differently.

Sure enough, he caught a glimpse of his face on the stretcher as it passed him. He was impossibly pale in stark contrast to the colorful bruises forming on his face already. The sight made him sick; there was no way he did that to himself. _Damn it! And he was supposed to be safe here!_

It was that thought that brought realization. He knew what happened, though he didn't know the details, he didn't have to.

An anger began to bubble inside him, an anger that he had only let loose on a few occasions in his past, an anger that scared him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"What happened to Jack?"

"That's not what we're here to talk about, and you know it."

There was no way he could sit down, he was too full of nervous energy and emotion. How the hell could Richter stay so calm?!

"Yes, but that's not the issue. What happened to Jack."

It was a statement, not a question; he was getting sick and tired of asking. Murdock looked the doctor in the eye and crossed his arms, pausing in his endless pacing.

"Oh but it is the issue, you left. Come on, you've never had trouble talking to me before, what happened?"

He was about to ask one more time before he stormed out of the room, but at Richter's words, all the fight went out of him like air out of a balloon, and he literally fell back onto the chair. He left. He left and Hands got hurt. He wasn't there to protect him. Jack got hurt because he left. It was all his fault…

"I left,"

"Yes."

Though Richter was only trying to encourage more info from him, Murdock took his agreement as a sign that it was his fault and felt even worse. Guilt and despair tangled together to make his heart heavy. And instead of defiance, when he looked back at Richter, only sorrow shone through.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Eventually, Richter had given up trying to keep Murdock on the topic of his escapade and capitulated, telling him the extent of Jack's injuries. Concussion, bruised kidney, several cracked ribs, a laceration to the back of his head where he had hit the wall, and an impressive array of bruises across his torso, stomach, back, and face.

Murdock had almost gotten sick himself at the news, but asked to be able to sit with him. Policy forbade it, but when did policy hold HM Murdock back? Richter allowed him visitation rights, but amended that he could only after 24 hours had passed to allow the doctors to work on him as well as to give him some time.

Meanwhile, Murdock had waited not so patiently in his room, trying to ignore the sounds of the cleaning crew fixing up his friend's room. He had just sat there, not quite thinking, just waiting.

Face called later that night, concerned. He had heard of an attack at the VA and was just making sure that Murdock was all right. Murdock never knew how Face was so well informed, but he was glad for it. The sound of a friendly voice made him feel a little better as he spoke about Hands and his injuries. Face promised to stop by as soon as he could, but he couldn't say when. He was caught cleaning up the loose ends from their last job as well as setting up a new identity.

"Sorry Murdock, I really liked him,"

"Me too Face."

"I'll try to come visit as soon as I can. Does anybody know what happened?"

"No, no one does but Hands."

"Hmmm."

He tried to sleep, but found it elusive. He ended up drifting in some other plane, not quite sleeping, but the area between, and was roused the next morning by Alec as he came to deliver the daily meds. He was complacent, careful not to do anything that would revoke his privileges. Murdock had gone to the mess to pick up a muffin for Jack, anticipating that the hospital wing's food was worse than the mess, he knew first hand.

So that's how he found himself wriggling, trying to get comfortable in a small plastic chair that he swiped from the lobby, beside his friend's bed in the infirmary.

Jack hadn't woken up yet. They had drugged him to bind his ribs, and the doctors had told him that it wasn't even likely that he would wake up anytime that day, yet he sat there anyway. He needed to.

He needed to make up for the time he missed. He only left when the call of nature was too unbearable, even skipping meal times. He spoke to Jack about anything and everything under the sun, carrying on conversations as if he was actually answering back. He also read a couple of his books to him to pass the time. In the evening, Jack had still not woken up, and Richter and Alec both had come around and threatened to revoke his visitation rights if he didn't return to his own room for the evening. That was difficult for Murdock, he was torn: he wanted to stay and considered being defiant, but, if he was, they might lock him out and carry through with their threats. So he had reluctantly left his friend's side, feeling uneasy all night, then eagerly waiting Alec in the morning so he could go back to Jack's bedside first thing.

Two days passed like that before the younger pilot showed any signs of waking up. The side table was covered with muffins, and Murdock had become restless and fidgety and the doctors were getting impatient, so everyone was relieved when Jack finally opened his eyes.

Murdock had been in a rant about white not being a 'real' color when a soft moan came from the bed. He stopped mid-sentence and leaned closer in to the bed.

"Jack?" he murmured.

"Umphhhhhn," he answered.

"Hands, open your eyes,"

He was trying, Murdock could tell. His eyelids were fluttering then, as if the seal was broken, they flew open, then promptly slammed shut.

"Ahhhnph"

"Sorry, but you need to,"

Murdock reached up and turned off the light directly above Jack's bed in an effort to try to ease the strain.

"Here, try again," and he did. This time, Jack kept his eyes open after squinting a bit. He looked around for a minute, not recognizing where he was before he stopped on Murdock.

"Murchhn?"

"Here, hold on," He ran away from the bed and grabbed the nearest nurse he could see, "I need some water," he requested before he returned to his friend.

"Don't try to speak,"

Jack was so tired that he listened to him, the first time, waiting patiently until the nurse appeared with water. When she saw that he was awake, she first let him drink before she jumped right in to the concussion test. Did he know his name? Yes. What was it? Jack O'Neill. What day is it? He didn't know. Do you know where you are? He guessed. Any dizziness or nauseousnes? Not at the moment, but he'll get back to her. Then came the hard question.

"Do you remember anything about what happened to you?"

Jack started to open his mouth to answer, then paused and shut it with an audible snap when he realized that he didn't know. His memory was a blank, he didn't remember anything. The last thing he did was watching Star Wars with Murdock, then their argument, and then the nurses drugging him, after that…nothing. He tried hard to think of what happened that could possibly put him in the infirmary, and he began to fidget because of the uneasiness. However, the moment he moved was when he realized that he was there for a good reason; a wave of pain hit him in the chest and made it difficult to breathe, it felt like his lungs were on fire.

Seeing his sudden discomfort, both the nurse and Murdock simultaneously eased him back onto the bed in the resting position,

"Take it easy, Hands," Murdock said, "You're pretty hurt."

"I don't know,"

"Well, I do,"

"No, I don't remember,"

"Oh."

"What happened? I don't remember, what happened?"

"Shhhh, calm down."

"No! What happened? Why won't you tell me? Just tell me! I don't remember," Jack was very agitated now. Losing part of his memory was freaking him out; that he got that hurt without being able to recall how or by whom. He didn't even really know the extent of his injuries either.

The nurse, always prepared, suddenly procured a syringe from nowhere it seemed then fiddled with the IV, introducing the sedative into Jack's bloodstream immediately.

Even as he continued demanding to know what happened, he could feel the drug pull him back to the murky depths of sleep, and couldn't fight it for very long, once again leaving Murdock behind to sit at his bedside.

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Author's Note: School's back in session, and they've started with a bang. I've already got to start work on a research paper, finish a novel, and work on college applications! So, the updates maybe slower than I would like for a little while until I get back into the groove of things.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: YAY!! Look, more words! Activity on this story! A surprise gift in many email in-boxes! And good news: I've picked this story back up, and am ready to finish it now!! A bit of a warning though, this one gets very emotional, and unbeta-ed. Any mistakes are my own, in a haste to get this out to y'all. Also, Liz, please don't kill me ; )

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The next couple weeks were surprisingly anti-climactic and uneventful. The nurses had kept Jack heavily sedated to keep him from panicking, and to facilitate his recovery. By the end of the first week they had even started to reduce the dosage of his sedative and by the second week, after his ribs were nearly healed, Jack had become lucid and coherent, having been weaned off the drugs completely. He still hadn't remembered exactly what had happened that night, which upset him tremendously but wasn't much of a shock to the doctors, and Murdock was secretly thankful. He knew that Jack didn't need the extra trauma on top of all his other troubles.

The day after Jack's first full 24 hours without any drugs besides painkillers, the young pilot was released back into his own normal room, which had been cleaned and refurnished again. Murdock threw him a little "Welcome Home Party", complete with cake, but Jack had felt that something was off. It was understandable that he would anxious and nervous, having obviously been attacked in his own room a couple weeks earlier and not having the ability to remember a single second of it nor the face of the attacker, but Murdock was right there with him, making it feel as if they were walking on eggshells around each other.

Jack flushed with guilt. The last thing he remembered was the fight he had with Murdock, his best friend. _I was completely unreasonable_. _He was only trying to help_. It was a shame that he didn't realize that earlier; otherwise he would have been able to avoid hurting both their feelings, and this discomfort between them would have never existed. _Woulda coulda shoulda…_

Jack hung his head and stepped outside slowly. His ribs still hurt, well, ached was a more relative term, but he was tired of resting all the time. He needed to get back out into the sun, back out into the fresh air and out of his room. He shuffled across the concrete pathway and saw a familiar figure bent over something while sitting at one of the several picnic tables under the shade of an old oak tree. Jack paused, let out a deep sigh, well, as deep as he could at that point in time, and set his destination. He needed to sit down for a moment to catch his breath.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Murdock sat staring at the object in his hands, letting his mind wander. The entire two weeks that Hands had been in the infirmary he had sat by his bedside, and he had refused to dwell on his own feelings, instead focusing on only projecting positive thoughts and only letting happy sentences fall from his mouth. To help with his recovery, or so he told himself. In reality, he was just now discovering, he just didn't want to deal with the enormous guilt; knowing that the attack on his friend was his fault. Now that Hands was up and about on his own, he didn't need Murdock anymore, and Murdock was allowed to think of himself and his own responsibilities and failings. It truly depressed him.

He turned the plane over and over in his hands, admiring the work. He was just wondering whether or not Hands would ever be able to forgives him, or whether or not their friendship would survive or crash and burn when the table and bench shook.

Murdock's heart sped up until he looked up and realized that the newcomer was a friend not a foe… at least he thought so. Their eyes met for a second before Murdock looked back down at the plane in his hands.

The two friends sat there for the rest of the day in complete and utter silence until the sun went down and the mosquitoes began swarming and they were forced inside.

They went back to their rooms without saying a word to each other except for "Goodnight" and "Sweet dreams".

As Murdock lay down in his bed, ready to fall asleep, he smiled. He had a feeling that everything would be alright.

He hoped.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Progress was slow, but they were eventually getting used to each other again. They started playing chess and once again having inane conversations. Jack had even been dragged to several more arts and crafts sessions, but despite their routine getting back to normal, he knew that there was still something between them. Jack knew that he had to eventually sit Murdock down and have a serious conversation and… apology, but he was reluctant to be the engager.

The thing was, now that his body was healing, his mind's weakness was now once again noticeable and took center stage. He still had nightmares and the occasional flashback. He was becoming fearful that they would never go away and that he would have to spend the rest of his life in an insane asylum. It was exhausting him and slowly driving him mad. _Hehe, the asylum is driving me insane. What a vicious circle!_

But things changed, somehow, the next day that they had a group session. Milligan was there again, but this time, instead of directing his vileness at Murdock, like before, he was sending _him _glares and predatory smirks that sent shivers up his spine and raised his hackles. There was also a change in Murdock. Where Murdock had been frightened of the man before, he now seemed to be barely containing an intense anger, almost animalistic, and had Jack thinking that he might have to physically restrain his friend before the session was over.

Thankfully though, Doctor Freud was just as oblivious and idiotic during that session as he was before. Even better, he had a lot of paperwork to catch up on, so he even cut short the session after Liz regaled everyone with more tales of her mysterious cabin in the woods and the adventures of her magical time machine. Murdock had a weird gleam in his eye as he ushered Hands out of that meeting, never turning his back on the grinning beast back in the room.

The tension lasted even an hour after they went to lunch. Murdock still hadn't calmed down, and Jack was beginning to worry. _What happened? What did he miss during those two weeks that would cause such a change in him? Is it my fault? Is he still angry at me for yelling?_ When Murdock snapped at him for suggesting that he was going to take a walk by himself before turning in early, Jack decided that enough was enough.

"Murdock, what's wrong? You've been acting a bit strangely ever since I woke up," Jack sighed and Murdock got scared. _Does he remember what happened? Did he figure out it's my fault?_ "I… I'm sorry if I… well, you know… I didn't mean it…"

_What?_

"I was angry and… well, I had no right to say that to you. I know you were only trying to help…It's just that I thought that I could handle this stuff on my own, ya know? God… it's just that… it's hard… and… well, the doctors here…" he made some obscure motions with his hands and Murdock just stared at him in shock. For him, Hands' entire apology had come out of left field, and it took him a few seconds to process before he was able to come up with some sort of response.

"Hands, it's okay. I understand that you were angry-"

"No, it's not okay. What I said was inappropriate. I had no right to take it out on my friend,"

"We always do," Murdock said seriously, his wisdom seeping through his madness.

"Huh?"

"We always take it out on our friends, because at time like this, they're all we've got left." Murdock waited for that to sink in. He was relieved that _this_ was what Hands was worried about. _This_ he knew how to handle. He let his memory fly back to that horrible mission gone wrong in the jungle, and the months of recovery afterward. He and Face had had it bad. He remembered the sleepless nights, Face's screams in the dark and the walking terrors. He remembered coming to, huddled under a commissary table clinging to Face as if he were a life preserver, and he remembered Face holding on just as tight. He remembered the voices of the past, of the dead, accusing, and cursing him for killing them, just because he survived. He remembered begging to be able to take their place. But he remembered Face there every step of the way. They rarely talked about it today, but back then when it was happening, they found comfort in each other's support. They had each other to lean on, and they had the strength of having gone through it together. They had shared the memories, they had shared the nightmares, the injuries, the pain, but most important they shared the healing. Hands didn't have that. He was alone, so Murdock would have to be his life preserver.

He didn't mind.

"Back in the jungle, me and the team were captured by Charlie. I was flying the chopper… I should have seen it coming. The trees were too quiet. Hannibal always said that when you could hear the green on the leaves, you'd know it was going to be bad. Well, we got shot down, tried to make it on foot, get away from the bird ya know, but BA had a bad break in his leg and that mudsucker was too darn heavy for us to carry for long on top of our own aches and pains. It took them only two hours before they hauled us to the camp, put us in these tiny cages. The funniest thing though, in the same cage as me and Face was this kid that I knew from high school back home, JJ, he had a large patch of land just south of Tyler back in Texas and all he wanted was to just live his life on the land and raise his horses. The war had other plans. Anyway, so here we were chattin', but I was too stupid."

"Charlie didn't much like us pilots, we're kinda like wood splinters. Anyway, they went out of their way to get us," Murdock shuddered, unwilling to disclose the immensely private methods the Vietcong enacted to get him to 'talk', "… then one day they dragged all of us out of the cage, me, Face, and JJ. JJ wasn't doing so hot, he had been in the camp for a whole three weeks before us and… well… you know. They made me choose," Murdock dropped his head, feeling the tears returning. It was still difficult for him to talk about it, "I just knew. JJ had that look in his eye. He knew too. He was gone, there was no way out for him except… he saw it as a relief. Even though, I'll never forgive myself. I know what it's like, Hands. We're all here for a reason."

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Author's Note: I know, a short little update, but at least it's an update at last!! I got to this last part and knew that it was the right place to stop.


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